


They Didn't Talk Often.

by Festively_Plump



Category: South Park
Genre: Death, Kyle can feel kennys deaths, M/M, Poptarts, betad by towny ;v;, kyle's mild likening for kenny's parka, poetic style that doesnt deserve the title poetry, red stained teeth, spoopy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 01:36:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17194025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Festively_Plump/pseuds/Festively_Plump
Summary: Kenny liesWith his eyes openAnd his mouth caught chewingA half-finished sentence.Kyle refusesTo believeHe’s dead.So he tells no oneAnd covers the body with snowHoping no one will find himAnd no one will noticeThe familiar parkaIn Kyles closet.----In which Kyle forms an unearthly bond with Kenny. Something connects them that Kyle can't quite place, something sticky and yellow. Something supernatural.





	They Didn't Talk Often.

They don’t talk often   
But Kyle still sees him.   
Often he wishes   
He could attach a camera   
And see Kenny’s life   
From sunup to sundown. 

Kenny doesn’t smile.   
Sometimes his lips part   
And stretch across his face   
Tearing it in two   
But Kyle doesn’t call it a smile   
More of a grimace   
Dressed like a smile.   
It makes Kyle shudder.   
One grey snow day   
In a particularly boring class   
Kyle watches Kenny.   
He sees him grimace   
Lips ripping open   
Revealing red tinted teeth.   
Kyle blinks   
And his lips are glued once more.   
Kyle goes back to taking notes   
And never brings it up. 

But he watches,   
Now, more closely   
Kenny’s features   
And notices   
The purple bags   
And brittle hair.   
One day   
Kyle sits with   
Him at lunch.   
They say nothing   
And Kyle feels   
Bedraggled   
Yet refreshed.   
Kyle leaves   
And thinks   
Kenny didn’t   
Even notice.   
Kyle thinks   
He saw   
Kenny’s teeth   
And they were   
Tinted red.   
Kyle grins   
And his own teeth   
Are white.   
He says   
(So quiet   
No one can hear)   
What does it take   
To make teeth red?   
The answer   
He comes up with   
Makes him twitch   
So he forgets it   
And doesn’t look   
At Kenny   
For three days. 

— 

One day Kyle wakes up  
And can't breathe.  
He jolts wildly in bed,  
Choking on nothing,  
He shakes and sputters,  
Convulsing and coughing,  
Reaching desperately  
For any ounce of air,  
His legs are kicking,  
Trying to help.  
His body rattles and spasms,  
And Kyle thrashes wildly,  
While two slender fingers  
Stick themselves into the back   
Of his pale throat desperately,   
To pull out  
A piece of pinkish pop tart.

He sits up,  
Shaken now,  
And coughs again.  
His fingers clench  
Around the piece  
Of pinkish pop tart.   
He doesn't like  
Strawberry pop tarts  
And never eats them.  
Kyle sits there  
Until his mother comes  
And knocks on his door.  
She tells him  
To get dressed  
And get breakfast  
But Kyle isn't hungry,  
And says,  
Still holding the piece   
Of strawberry pop tart  
In his thin fist,  
He already ate.  
His mouth tastes pink.

His mother says   
He can't have food  
In his room  
And leaves.  
Kyle stays on his bed  
For thirteen minutes  
Until finally,  
He slinks downstairs  
And leaves  
Without saying goodbye.  
He doesn't brush his teeth  
And he doesn't let go  
Of the piece   
Of pinkish pop tart.

Kyle walks to school,  
and feels like  
He's on the wrong side  
of the tracks.  
Is this divine punishment?  
He asks aloud.  
When no one answers  
He takes it as yes  
And stuffs his fists  
Into his jean pockets. 

The school is cold,  
as always,  
and Kenny isn't there.  
When he asks Stan  
Where Kenny is  
Stan doesn't know.  
Cartman, when asked,  
Says he doesn't care  
And that he hopes  
He had died.  
His eyes are ugly,  
And they shine  
When Cartman lies.

Kyle spends the day thinking,  
And afterward  
Finds himself truly  
On the wrong side  
Of the rusty railroad tracks,  
Waiting at Kenny's door.  
His sister says he's dead,  
With her candy sweet sort of apathy  
That is marked  
By a sugar cotton smile.  
He choked on a pop tart,  
She says,  
And closes the rotten wood door.  
Kyle coughs,  
And squeezes the piece of  
Pinkish pop tart  
In his thin fist.  
He coughs all the way home,  
His mouth tasting pink.

\--

Kenny is skinny.   
Brittle, thinks Kyle,   
Like I could   
Snap him   
In two.   
Kyle gets the urge   
To at least try   
But stops himself   
When he hears   
His thoughts. 

Kenny’s body isn’t   
As big as he thought.   
Kenny is naked   
Laying in the snow   
And Kyle realizes   
He’s just skinny.   
When Kyle checks   
The yellow tag   
Of the orange parka   
That lies discarded   
A few feet away   
It’s a large   
And Kyle laughs. 

Kenny lies   
With his eyes open   
And his mouth caught chewing   
A half-finished sentence.   
Kyle refuses   
To believe   
He’s dead.   
So he tells no one   
And covers the body with snow   
Hoping no one will find him   
And no one will notice   
The familiar parka   
In Kyles closet. 

That night   
Kyle cries   
And his brother   
Looms in the doorway.   
He says nothing   
But listens   
To the sobs and aches   
Rip themselves   
From Kyle's throat   
As his body racks   
And shakes   
And the TV blares   
From downstairs. 

— 

It’s a week   
Before Kyle   
Sees Kenny again.   
When he does   
He drops his coffee   
And ruins   
The new shoes   
His mother got him.   
Kenny doesn’t see him   
And Kyle goes white.   
A girl asks   
If he saw a ghost   
And her friends laugh.   
He just leaves   
And rubs his eyes   
Mumbling to himself,   
And her, though   
She’s out of earshot,   
Ghosts aren’t real. 

Kyle is logical.   
He believes in science,   
He doesn’t believe   
In the mystical.   
It’s just hoopla,   
He says,   
Unreal and unrealistic.   
Everything!  
Can be proven!  
By science!   
If it can’t,   
It isn’t real,   
Kyle decides. 

Kyle is afraid   
That he really did  
See Kenny.   
Kyle is afraid   
That ghosts   
And mystics things   
Are real.   
Kyle is afraid   
(And he won’t admit it)   
That he is wrong. 

— 

Kenny has yellow hair,  
That's matted  
And sticky.  
He looks cold, today,  
Without his parka,  
Shaking slightly.  
His falls of hair shake, too.  
Kyle sits behind him  
In their English class  
And watches him  
Twist his hair  
Around a bony finger.  
He stops twisting  
And writes something down.  
A flick of white flies  
From his hand  
And onto the neighbor's table.  
The neighbor reads it  
And snickers  
Before tossing a note back.  
Kyle wonders mindlessly  
About what they've written.  
When class ends  
He watches Kenny leave  
And resists the urge  
To run his hands  
Through his yellow hair.

In the hallway  
Kyle is quick.  
He sits with Cartman  
At lunch.  
They fight  
And yell  
And argue,  
Just as always.  
Normalcy is calming,  
So Kyle indulges himself  
In a pitiless  
And pointless squabble.  
Yet, it isn't quite normal.  
There is an obvious,  
Sticky, and yellow absence.  
Kyle realizes Kenny  
Isn't with them.  
He never sits with them.  
Why is it weird  
He isn't now?  
He leaves the table  
When the bell rings.  
The argument is left unfinished,  
And sits on the table,  
Waiting for tomorrow  
When it would be picked up again.  
Halfway through fifth period,  
Kyle feels a pain  
Its sharp, and he gasps  
Falling out of his chair  
And begins to writhe.  
The pain is like a hole,  
Deep in his stomach,  
Drilling and laughing.  
He resists the urge to scream,  
And does his best  
To stop his wriggling.  
He sits up,  
Biting his tongue in pure pain,  
The feeling dissipating  
As fast as it came.  
Kyle's classmates giggle  
As he climbs,  
Breathing shakily,  
Into his seat.  
No peer is concerned,  
But the teacher eyes him warily  
And asks if he's alright.  
Kyle nods,  
The class giggles,  
And Kenny is nowhere to be seen.

Three days later,  
Kenny still isn't back  
At their podunk school.  
Kyle tells Stan  
what had happened  
And Stan says to   
Go to a doctor.  
When he does,  
They say he's fine,  
Physically, at least,  
And Kyle lies quietly  
On his bed  
Wondering about the pain.  
On the fourth night,  
His mother sits  
On the end  
Of his stiff and stuffy mattress.  
She says,  
And is almost stopped  
By slinking tears,  
Kenny had passed away.

She says,  
Quietly,  
Like it's something poison,  
That he was shot  
Deep in the stomach  
While getting a warm Pepsi  
From the outside vending machine.  
When she leaves,  
Kyle covers himself  
In his stiff sheets,  
And whispers  
This is all a dream.  
His body shakes lightly,  
His hair glows like blood.  
Kyle puts a cold hand  
Against his warm stomach  
And whispers, again,  
This is all a dream. 

\--

Kenny sits   
Next to him   
On the bus.   
Kyle says nothing   
But freezes   
In fear. 

A moment passes   
And Kyle   
Holds his breath   
Praying   
Pleading   
Wishing   
Kenny would leave   
Or that he   
Was making it up   
And Kenny   
Had never died   
And his used parka   
Wasn’t in his closet   
Rotting   
And dirty   
And covered in mud   
Yet unmistakably   
Orange. 

Kenny’s face   
Is skinny   
And his hair   
Is brittle.   
His eyes flick   
To Kyle   
And all he says is  
“I want my parka back.”   
Before getting up   
And moving   
To the back   
Of the bus.   
Kyle gets off   
At the next stop. 

— 

Kyle goes to Kenny’s  
Three days later,  
When this sun  
Is weirdly dull.   
It’s dingy,   
His home,   
Stained with green   
And mold   
And a sticky red   
That seeps   
From the carpet   
To Kyles shoes. 

Kyle is in   
The living room.   
The floor is   
Like a casserole   
Left to rot   
And the couch   
Is so far gone   
He’s shocked   
Kenny even dares   
To sit on it.   
A little sister  
With a dirt-smudged face   
Smiles at him   
And asks   
If he has any candy.   
She has brown hair   
And looks nothing like   
Her older brother.   
Her face screams   
She’s seen things   
Kyle couldn’t dream.   
He gives her   
A cracked mint   
And her eyes   
Go wide.   
She grabs it   
Before he can   
Retract his offer   
And scrambles   
To her room,   
Fearful someone   
Will take   
Her newfound treasure. 

Kyle waits   
For seven   
More minutes.   
He considers sitting   
On the couch   
Then decides   
Against it   
After noticing   
The seeping   
And boiling   
Red stains   
That seem   
To smile   
At him   
After the seventh minute   
Kenny comes out   
From a door   
At the end   
Of the hallway.   
He takes his parka   
And smiles   
And Kyle sees,  
For sure,   
His teeth  
Are stained red. 

Kyle goes to hand him  
The ratty parka,  
But before   
He can say anything   
Kenny kisses him  
With warm arms  
And a warm face.  
His mouth   
Tastes like blood   
And Kyle stands  
in quiet shock. 

His face passes   
Several shades   
Of red,   
From shock   
To happiness  
To incredible ecstasy   
Like he’d never felt before. 

When Kenny finally   
Pulls away   
Kyle leans forward   
And laughs,   
Suddenly dizzy.   
A soft joy,   
Slightly shocked  
Yet ever happy,  
Grows on Kenny's face.   
For the first time   
In too long   
His face is ripped   
By a violent   
And genuine smile.   
He grabs Kyle by his waist  
Pressing his face   
To Kyles  
Eyes blazing   
With an orange fire   
Brighter than his parka.   
He says   
“Thanks   
For the parka,”   
And pushes back   
Stalking back   
To his dilapidated room,   
Leaving Kyle   
to laugh like wild  
In the snow outside   
Mouth tasting of blood,   
Heart beating   
The beat of love,   
Eyes swimming   
With the sight   
Of a dead man   
Fully alive. 

— 

The next time   
Kyle sees Kenny   
Is four weeks later.   
They hadn’t spoken   
Since the incident   
Though Kenny   
Had sat next to him   
On the bus   
Several times   
Quietly gripping   
Kyle's hand   
As if it   
Were the last thing   
Keeping him sane. 

Now Kenny   
Has hair clips   
Holding back   
Masses of blond falls.   
Kyle likes the clips   
And buys a packet of seven  
For his almost friend. 

Next time   
Kenny sits with him   
He takes out the clips   
And pins them   
One by one  
Into Kenny’s hair   
As Kenny sits   
A grin resting,   
Slightly tilted,   
On his perfect   
Pink face. 

Once Kyle   
Puts the last one   
In his yellow hair  
Kenny kisses him.   
This time   
It doesn’t taste   
Like blood   
And Kyle   
Feels his brain   
Scream and stretch,   
Dance and holler  
in utmost joy. 

 

The next stop is Kenny’s.   
He gets off   
And leaves Kyle   
With an empty packet   
Of hairpins   
And a beating,   
Poptart pink heart. 

— 

Kyle is leaving   
For college   
In two days.   
This night is rough,  
And it feels like someone  
Is bombarding him  
With bruises,  
Hammering his bones,  
Snapping his skin.  
He rolls and squirms,  
Unable to escape   
The invisible hands.  
Eventually, as always  
With these kinds of nights,  
Something truly painful hits,  
Like thousands of tiny fists,  
Thousands of tiny rocks,  
Thousands of tiny shards   
That cut and steal   
And slash and hack.  
Kyle stuffs a fist in his mouth  
To prevent the arching scream  
Of pure, unmarred pain.  
Then it's gone  
And Kyle falls   
Into restless sleep.

Kyle leaves for college in two days.  
He spends one   
Of those days   
With his brother,   
Five years younger.   
His brother is smart,   
Just like Kyle,   
And has a wide grin   
And sarcastic eyes.   
Kyle tells him   
On this day   
His eyes   
Look like coal   
And Isaac   
Can’t decide   
Whether that’s a compliment   
Or an insult   
So he says nothing.   
He won’t say it   
But he’s afraid   
Of his brother   
And his somewhat sudden   
Change in attitude.   
He asks what happened   
To his lively,  
Angry older brother.   
Who took his body,   
And made it a shell?   
Kyle smiles wryly   
And says   
He’s just the same   
As he always has been.   
He tells Ike  
He’s just growing up   
And he’s no longer   
Blinded by childhood.   
Ike squeezes his eyes shut   
And pretends his brother   
Has already left   
For college. 

Ike won’t miss him. 

The next day is Kyles own   
So he sits in   
A coffee shop.   
His friends are busy,   
So he’s playing solitaire.   
The mild chatter   
That fills Kyle's ears   
Is sliced by   
The unmistakable voice   
Of his yellow-haired friend.   
Friend?  
Are they truly friends?  
Kyle says they're more,  
Not boyfriends,  
But more.   
Closer.   
Something Kyle can't place  
Connects them  
In more than a physical way.  
Something Kyle doesn't believe in,  
Something almost supernatural.

Kenny still sports   
The many tiny hair clips   
And a drugged,  
Relaxed grin.   
His skin shows him mild bruises  
That seem too healed.  
He asks when Kyle   
Is going to leave   
And Kyle tells him.   
Kenny says   
They have enough time   
And grabs his wrist. 

They walk to the pond,  
Twisting down the streets,  
And Kenny smiles.   
His teeth are white,   
And Kyle asks   
If he brushed them.   
Kenny laughs   
And Kyle flushes red. 

The streets are empty,  
The park is, too.  
The trees laugh,  
The bees and flowers play and court.  
The water giggles quietly.  
It's a peace Kyle hadn't felt,  
And he leans,  
Mindlessly,  
Into Kenny.   
Peace.

But soon Kyle notices something.  
It's red and smiling shyly,  
Peeking from the bushes.   
He pulls it out,   
Realizing it’s a   
Can of gasoline.   
Kyle laughs   
And half-jokingly   
Asks if Kenny   
Has a lighter.   
When he produces one   
From the deep reaches   
Of his orange coat pocket   
Kyle is mildly surprised.  
He takes the fluid   
And pours it   
Into a trash can.   
Kenny stands behind him   
And hands Kyle the lighter   
When he asks for it.   
Kyle lights a stick  
Then throws the stick   
Into the trash can.   
Why?  
Why not!  
And the two laugh   
As the flames dance.

Kenny and Kyle.   
Kyle and Kenny.   
Which sounds better?   
Kyle can’t decide.   
The fire burns   
And twists   
And lunges.   
It dances   
A unique dance,   
Spinning   
And laughing   
And whistling   
Until it reaches too high   
And the trees scream   
In terror.   
Kyle starts to   
Throw snow   
In the can   
But the fire   
Simply smiles wider.   
So Kenny lunges   
And rolls the fiery can   
Into the pond.   
They watch it float   
And scream   
Until the water   
Grabs it   
And pulls it under.   
The fire retches   
And the water laughs   
And Kyle watches   
In mild amusement   
And mild horror.   
Once it's gone,  
The water continues to lap   
At the shore   
As if nothing   
Had ever happened.

Kyle rakes at Kenny   
For getting so close   
To such a raging fire.   
He could have died   
And Kyle won’t admit   
How much   
That would have hurt him.   
In response   
Kenny tells him   
He can’t die   
And Kyle laughs   
Like a nervous hyena.   
Kenny pauses,   
Realizing his folly,   
And promptly changes   
The subject.   
They hike in the forest   
And say nothing.   
Kenny finds a patch   
Of pretty white daisies   
And picks some   
Just for Kyle.   
He makes a string of flowers   
And ties it around his neck.   
The daisies are white   
Just like Kenny’s teeth.   
Kyle smiles at that,   
And ropes more flowers   
Around Kenny’s neck.   
They eat away an hour there,   
Tying flowers together   
And watching the clouds pass,   
Engulfed in pure bliss.   
Kyle is happy,   
Kenny is smiling,   
And the trees giggle   
And smile   
And dance   
As the two walk   
All the way   
To Kyles house. 

They spend the rest of   
The day on the carpet.   
Kenny tells him   
Stories of his deaths   
And Kyle doesn’t know   
How to respond.   
Eventually, Kenny asks   
If he’s scaring him   
And Kyle only says yes.   
Kenny grabs Kyles hand   
And gives it a squeeze.   
He apologizes,   
But Kyle insists   
He continues.   
So he does.   
And the stories spill   
From his lips   
Like ugly tar water.   
They talk   
Until the sun   
Nods off to sleep   
And the moon watches   
With glaring white eyes. 

Kyle holds Kenny,   
Putting a hand   
Up his shirt   
And on the skin   
Above his heart   
As Kenny talks   
And secrets spill   
From poptart pink lips. 

Kenny says,   
His voice quiet,   
That he wonders   
When he won’t   
come back   
And Kyle doesn’t have  
a good answer.   
Kenny turns a little,   
Pushing his face   
Into Kyle’s thigh   
Which makes Kyle   
Go a little red   
(Kenny doesn’t see   
but he does know).   
His hands grip the carpet   
And Kyle tilts his head   
Worried for his   
Almost friend.   
Kyle says,   
Are you alright?   
And Kenny screams,   
The vibrations of his voice   
Echoing and banging,   
That all he wants   
Is to go home.   
Kyle, flushed   
And scared   
He said   
Something wrong,   
Stands up   
And offers   
To walk him home.   
A silence,   
Then suddenly   
Fat tears shine   
And spill   
From Kenny’s   
Blue eyes   
Staining a skinny face   
And he cries   
On the grey-brown carpet   
Of Kyle Broflovski’s   
Grey-brown house. 

When Kenny leaves   
And Kyle waves goodbye  
There is an imprint   
Where two bodies   
Clung like leaves   
To a dying tree.   
Kyle tries   
To stamp away   
The impression,   
Scrubbing at it   
With his coffee-stained shoes,   
But it doesn’t go away.   
Kyle still sees it  
and realizes it will always be there.   
Soon it’s time to leave   
And Kyle gathers his things   
And says goodbye.   
He kisses his mother,   
And his brother,  
And shakes   
His father's hand. 

On the way out   
He spots orange   
From behind the fence   
But when he turns   
Nothing is there.   
He waves anyways   
And a smile dances   
On his pink lips.   
His dad asks   
Who he’s waving to   
And Kyle says   
To the wild. 

The wild waves back   
But Kyle doesn’t see.   
When Kenny crawls   
From his hiding hole   
He watches the car   
Rumble away,   
Like thunder   
Across a great plain.   
Kenny decides  
His life   
Will never be the same,  
And Kyle looks back,  
Thinking the same.

**Author's Note:**

> So, as the tags say, @townycod13 beta'd this (and left such nice + helpful feedback I want to cry ;O; <3), so please please pay her a kind visit!   
> Please, tell me your favorite epithet/line, that'd really make my day ;D thanks for reading!


End file.
